Just you wait
by Mistykins06
Summary: Sherlock Misbehaves in the lab and Molly knows just how to teach him a lesson. A prompt fill request
1. Chapter 1

So I reached 300 Tumblr followers and then world was the 300th and thus I offered her a prompt. She gave me a fantastic, messy idea. Or I suppose you could say we inspired each other.

Sometimes, alright an awful lot of the time Sherlock Holmes was a real bastard. There was no other way to say it he was mean, rude and awful. The man of thirty-seven tended to behave like a child of six when things weren't going his way. Today he'd had a particularly bad moment when a hypothesis proved untrue and he was suddenly back at square one. It was a small matter truly. But the brat had screamed and thrown an entire box of slides at the door sending glass flying across the (empty save for himself) room. While no one was hurt, it still fell to Molly to clean the mess up. Truth be told, Molly Hooper had had just about enough. She was done dealing with an overgrown child's 'hangry' temper tantrums (honestly a power bar would do him wonders). Regardless, the bottom line was that it was time to do something about it.

As she knelt to sweep a pile of shards into the pan noting the way the light sparkled off of them. A rather wicked smile started to bloom on her face as Molly Hooper got an idea. An awfully terrible wonderful idea. Softly she began to sing, "just you wait Sherlock Holmes, just you wait. You'll be sorry but your tears will come too late..."

That evening when her shift was over Molly began her plan of attack. She'd strike swiftly and right at the heart. Three text messages and one trip to the store to procure her needed tools and a nicer vintage of wine than she usually drank because by God she had earned it. The rest of her evening was spent in delicious preparation and anticipation. "Just you wait Sherlock Holmes, just you wait. Will I help you? Don't be funny, just you wait..."


	2. Chapter 2

When morning arrived in London it was its usual damp self only the impending summer made it unusually hot and humid. The air itself seemed to fizzle and forewarn of an oncoming storm. As for the residents of 221 B Baker Street one spent the morning pacing while the other was fleeing. "Off to my sisters dear. I'll be back Monday. Try not to set the old pile on fire dear. I've just had my floors redone!"

"Go then." Her foul moody tenant bellowed. "Maybe then I'll have the peace I need to THINK."

As she left she held the door open for John Watson and the oh so charming Detective Inspector Lestrade. "Send me pictures dears, and do let me know when it's safe to return." The gentlemen nodded and smiled then headed up to meet the monster of Baker Street.

"Morning sunshine." Watson greeted. "Got any coffee made?"

"Mrrr." The moping man waved from his prostrate position. "Mrs Hudson was too busy leaving me to be bothered with preparing so much as tea."

"Oh my. England will fall surely."

"It may. Not that I'd care." Sherlock sniffed and rolled into the sofa.

"So... Ah." Lestrade rocked on his heels, "any developments in the case?"

"Solved it last night. It was the boring father. Unintentional poisoning and dull." Came the muffled voice.

"So no crime then? That's good for him." Watson quipped.

"Boring."

John and Greg looked from one another and Greg started nodding. The git deserved what he had coming. Moving into position, Lestrade moved to make the bold choice to sit in Sherlock's chair pulling out his phone to prepare to record. Giving a bow of his chin to Watson the smaller man moved into place.

"So, Molly stopped by the house last night." John spoke but was met with no response. "She mentioned that you had a bit of a rough day in the lab so she wanted to prepare something special for me to give you."

Rolling one shoulder over Sherlock peeked at his friend. "What is it?"

"Who knows. I only agreed to bring it since it didn't need to be transferred via a medical cooler." John says with a pointed look. "Do you want it or not?"

Sherlock debated a minute before flinging himself up in haste to reach for the small plain tube his friend held out. He held it in his hands and began twisting the top but then stopped, Sniffing at himself below the armpit once, twice and then sat the canister down. "Last nights run through the streets isn't wearing so well this morning. Showering. Now." He bolted upright and strode towards the bath down the hall.

"You're not going to open it? See what she has for you?" Lestrade asked.

"If it's from Molly, and not in a cooler then it's just a small tease. She'll want me to come in, no doubt. May as well get showered and dressed." He called on his traveling and from the bath.

Once the door closed, John and Greg looked from one another. "This isn't going to work..." The detective complained.

"No, no it will. Trust me just give it time." John urged. "This may be even better than we hoped."

"So does he realize that he's primping to see Molly?"

"No of course he bloody well doesn't. But he does it all the time. If seen him leave a Bart's once because his hair wasn't acting right."

John confided.

"She's still too good for him." Greg decided. "Always has been."

"Yeah, but she loves him."

"I never said the girl had good taste." They both shared a chuckle and waited as casually as could be for the 'prima donna' himself to return.

Not ten minutes later, Sherlock came out from the shower, water still clinging to his skin with his hair smoothed back and down and a towel wrapped firmly on his hips to find the men waiting and playing on their phones. "Oh you ready to peek now?"

"Yes, I thought it might help me know which shirt to wear. To see just how much is need Molly to assist me. You know how fond she is..." Sherlock pulled the tube open with a hearty yank and was met with a poof of fuchsia, purple and teal and gold glitters blew their way over his wet head and body. The mix of traditional and ultra fine glitter brought along with rhinestones showered up across his still wet chest and hair and all over the sofa and coffee table below. "...Of certain shirts."

Around him the voices of his once so called friends were howling with laughter. Lestrade positively cackled out an unusual high-pitched screech. "I got it! I got it on video-oooooh!" He jumped up and danced like he just scored a winning goal for Manchester United. 'Yeah!' He shouted and went over to vigorously shook a now crying Watson.

Out of the canister a small note floated and Sherlock grabbed it.

Dearest Sherlock,

You made such a childish mess with the slides in my lab yesterday that I was left to clean self. That really was messy, wasteful, annoying and time consuming for me to clean up. Therefore, it only right that you have your own mess to clean up. I've spoken to a good number of your associates (from Mrs Hudson to Billy Wiggins) and they have all sided with me. You will be cleaning this up all on your own.

So do think long and hard about how you brought this upon yourself with such disrespectful behavior to me while you're cleaning up MY mess. And then let me know when YOU've finished. I'll come round and inspect your work myself. Perhaps I'll have a real treat for you then. Or perhaps not. You were a giant ass today after all.

Sending my love to you with lots of squishy, sparkly cuddles till then, (you know I simply couldn't resist)

Molly XXX

Ps: Yes, I am aware that you may never wish to to me again after this and I'm fully prepared for this possibility. Nevertheless, should that happen know that I will regret nothing. Toddles.

"Hooper..." Sherlock growled, flinging the tube across the room and scattered even more of what in his opinion was the vilest substance to have ever entered Baker Street. Around him the click of pictures being taking sounded and Sherlock glared in turn at both of the men who were too busy crying their tears of laughter to notice the look they were being given.

"Out. NOW!" Sherlock roared and threatening.

"You sound like that dragon in that Movie!" Bellowed Lestrade.

"He's... Oh my God...He's even sparkly like one!" Came Johns high whine.

"Go now or I shall put you to work!" Sherlock commanded.

"No luck with that. We've had our orders. No cases till she says so either by the by." The men moved to leave. "Laters!" Cackled out John and the both laughed their way out of the building.

Sherlock turned and caught a sight of his reflection, or the shine drew his attention. There was no denying it: he looked a sight and this was an act of war against his person. An act that Molly Hooper of all people had instigated.

She's growing tired of you and your ways. It happens to everyone. They all have their breaking points. It's a wonder it took her this long. Sherlock's cheek gave a twinge at the thought. Molly Hooper wants nothing to do with you and your childish ways.

But did she? She had after all given his this test. Did she want him gone? If not then what did she want?

I just want you to say you are sorry, Sherlock. I deserve that small consideration. Don't I? He saw her in the lab in his mind holding a dustpan. Molly looked tired, vulnerable. Infinitely precious. Without her there'd be little chance of being able to use the lab nearly as often. True, though that the thought of St Bart's without Molly cheering it's halls seemed empty.

You deserve my respect. He admitted to himself. And an apology I definitely deserve an apology.

With that he set out to shower again and to begin to clean up the mess that he had made.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey this chapter gets a bit steamy... Nothing explicit just a general warning.

Days. DAYS it took to Hoover, lift, dab, extricate and clean up the glittery shimmering pestilence that had infected Baker Street thanks to his glitter bomb. At times he was irate about it; at other times he found the process oddly soothing. It was after all a puzzle in a way. A challenge. One he would conquer.

Finally when it was complete Sherlock sent a text to Molly reading simply 'come'. To which she responded with the most irritating text message known to man 'k'. It was infuriating. Even more irritating was that fact that she wasn't coming. He knew she was off of work and yet after the usual time it would have taken her to come she hadn't. An hour passed. Then another, and still no Molly.

Just when he decided she wasn't coming as it was nearly 10 pm the sounds of her opening the door and her footfalls were heard gently treading the steps up the stairs. "You're ready for me, I presume?" She called up.

"Bit late for a visit isn't it Molly?" He called back as Molly appeared at the door. She was dressed in a knee length dress with sandals and a lightweight size-too-big military cut jacket on.

"Oh am I interrupting you? My apologies. Sorry if I'm late but well you see, I do have a life that doesn't revolve around you." Dinner with some friends; someone's birthday he deduced. And had consumed a fair bit of wine he deduced. Not enough to be drunk exactly but relaxed. Pouting a bit he spun from her to sit in his chair. She'd gone out knowing full well that be was he was waiting for her and that bothered him. It bothered him more than it would if it had been Lestrade or Watson to have done so (which they had before) and he wasn't all to sure as to why.

"Yes. I'm aware how little my presence is desired in your life these days." He whined. "I seem to be a bother more than anything."

"Hmmm." Molly didn't comment. She sat her bag and pulled her jacket down, and set it on top. "Bit stuffy in here, isn't it? How can you bare it dressed all like that?" She shook her hand in his direction indicating his suit complete with jacket.

"It's fine for me." He groused. Molly shrugged.

"So let's get on with the inspection, shall we?" Returning to her purse she pulled out her phone thrumming through it until she found just what she was looking for and giggled "oh I just love this picture of you!" She held the phone out to see one of the pictures that Geoff had taken of Sherlock glaring. "I even made it the background on my phone. Wanna see?"

"No." Sherlock gave the answer his most obvious pout.

"Oh. Okay." She didn't seem all that bothered, Sherlock noticed. A part of him began wondering what Molly was playing at, for she certainly was playing at something. "What are you doing, Molly?"

"Analysis Sherlock. I'm looking to see where you got bombed at based on Greg's pictures." She gave him a look that he himself was far too familiar with giving 'obviously'. "So you were right around here... When poof!" Looking over her shoulder she smiled, "oh I wish I could have seen it in person. Right. Anyways that makes here ground zero."

Kneeling she got down as close as she could to the floor, leaving her bottom up higher than any other point of her body. Sherlock didn't think it was an intentionally sensual pose, but the wine was going to her head a bit more than she was possibly aware of . And it didn't help that he found himself unable to look away from the flash of blue knickers that kept peeking out from her hem. "Well then, it's very, very clean under here. Sherlock, I must say I am mildly impressed! And you had absolutely no help?" Crawling back to a seated position shaking her hair out Molly looked around her shoulder again at him. Now he felt his eyes tracing the curve of her neck as she did so. His head nodded in answer to her question and her eyes went bright. "Good boy."

"Thank you?" Was all he was able to answer as he watched her rise again and peek around the cushions and under books on the side table in search of a glimmer. When she was satisfied she faced him once more. "Well Molly, did I pass muster?"

"You mean have I forgiven you and have you earned your treat?"

"Yes?" Why had he answered it as a question. Was he that unsure of her answer?

A strangely wicked smile took over her face. "Too soon to say, I'm afraid. Stand up and strip your shirt off."

Standing he moved to slide off his jacket before he realized just what he was doing. "What?"

"Oh you clearly heard me. So come on now; off with it!" She veritably grinned.

"I can't see how that would be at all necessary."

"It is," she insisted. "Because you were not wearing a shirt when you got bedazzled."

"I'm clean now I assure you. A dozen showers assured of it."

"Yes, but I want to see to be sure. So take off your shirt. Now if you please. As you said it is getting late."

They held one another's eyes, heads tilting, daring and challenging each other. "You're not going to just take my word for it, are you?"

"Nope." She smirked, popping her 'p' and narrowing her eyes. "So strip." At last a blush began to fill her cheeks at her own daring words. Although Sherlock could see that it wasn't simple embarrassment that had formed it but arousal. She's aroused. He studied each symptom she presented of the state she was in. Definitely aroused.

But then if he were to be honest with himself so was he. While he knew she was far from the timid woman she was assumed to be, seeing her so fully in charge was still highly stimulating. Particularly when she was currently standing in front of him, telling him what she wanted in no uncertain terms with her hands on her hips and her expression serious. That, Sherlock decided made the decision for him, he would obey her. Under his terms, however.

Slowly he slipped the jacket off his shoulders and turned to lay it gently on his chair back, where it would be sure to not get wrinkled. Next he held her eye and moved to his cuffs, removing the cuff links in a slow paced manner, loving the way her eyes watched each dexterous move he made before he sat them on the desk to his left. As he began to unbutton the shirt he stepped forward to her. "Wha- what are you doing?" Molly questioned as she realized he was nearly to her. It caused her to step back again and again, until her legs met with the back of the couch.

"You said you wanted to see." Sherlock crooned. "So I'm giving you a show."

"I... I didn't- I don't I mean that's what I meant." She fell back.

"So you're not liking what you see?" At this he pulled the tails of the shirt up on sliding the fine material soft as silk up across his hips and abdomen. Molly gulped and looked up at him as her lips softly fell open. Finally he slid the unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders and arms, tossing it a lot less skillfully into the chair. "Do I please you now?"

"No." She blurted out. "You've done a good job as well on the body. That fine glitter can absorb into the pores. Can't be too careful, you know?" She looked up his torso to his face, then a bit higher. "A- and you could still have some in your hair. Have you checked it well?"

"As well as I could. And the dozen showers thing. I'm fairly sure. I'm clean." Humming Molly just continued to look at the hair, "you want to check though for yourself don't you?

"Would you let me?" An actual question. One he took a moment to deliberate. Molly wanted to put her fingers in his hair; to search through the follicles for glitter, however he knew how much she had longed to have this particular experience since the moment they'd met. And now she had a chance, but still in her typical giving nature she was allowing him the make that call so it fell to him to make the choice. Did he want to let her? His hair was inordinately sensitive. Even having his trusted stylist work in it was at times overwhelming, and yet… Sherlock could not help but wonder how would it feel to have Molly's gentle and able fingers combing through his hair? Amazing, his mind supplied. Gulping, Sherlock pulled the coffee table over slightly, thrilling at the slight gasp Molly let out and dropped to his knees to move in front of her to present his head for her inspection.

When she made no movement to begin he looked up at her from his bowed position "is his how you wanted me?" The tone of his voice was low and heated. It made Molly inadvertently suckin her breath rather than expelling it. It seemed words failed her (a reaction he was quite delighted to have produced) but hen she lifted one hand to comb through his locks of hair. Now Sherlock found it was his own turn to give his own involuntary relation as a moan escaped his suddenly tight throat. Her pressure was just right to be pleasurable, but not painful as she stroked through his hair.

"Oh! Liked that, did you?" She's whisperd moving slightly and sent her fingers through the curls again. Sherlock sighed a most contented breath and Molly smiled in amusement. "Yes, you most certainly did. Another stroke and you may start purring loud as Toby does. Shall I?"

"But what about your search?"He challenged.

"It's still on going. And I plan to be most thorough indeed." Her fingers gave a gentle wiggle in between his curls and he felt a tingle shoot down both his arms. Curious sensation, that. "Continue then." He nearly begged. "I'm rather eager to see if I pass your test."

"Eye on the prize then?" Her laugh was low as well and then one hand became two intertwining among his locks.

"To be honest I can't think of anything I'd want more than this at the moment." If one hand had been bliss, two was giving the sensation of nearing an out of body experience.

"Oh Sherlock, the things I could do to you would make this pale in comparison" Molly sighed. "If only..."

If only what he couldn't help but wonder. If he wasn't him? If he hadn't hurt her if he wasn't such an ass, "what?" He asked. .

"If only, I hadn't found this." Pulling one finger out of the back side of his hair she brought forth a glimmering teal fleck of glitter. "You failed, Sherlock."

Eyes wide, Sherlock leaned back and watched, waiting to see what her next move was. The minx swiftly stood and grabbed her bag and jacket. "Such a shame." She had made it through the door when he called out to her. "Wait! Please don't go. I'm sorry, you know I am. I was wrong to behave like I did at the lab, and I'm sorry that it was you that I hurt most by acting out the way I did. Please Molly, please."

Oh god. He'd actually gone and begged the woman. Twice. Somewhere is Australia Irene Adler was feeling victorious without quite knowing why she needed to do so.

Molly turned back to face him but kept herself deliberately outside of the flat. She leaned her head forward to rest it against the door frame, biting her lip and cocking her eyebrows as she looked at him. The sincerity read on his face and she smiled a ghost of a smile. He rose up and slowly walked towards her. A veritable vision from a fantasy with his shirt missing and his hair well tussled. When he got near enough he rested his head on the other side of the door way from her. "I was wrong to throw the sides. And you were right to have given me a taste of my own medicine. I'm sorry to that I failed your test. But what I need to know most is can you forgive me, Molly?"

"Of course I can. Do I though..."

"Molly."

"Oh alright. I'll forgive you. But next time I'll get you even harder Mr. Holmes. Understood?"

"Perfectly."

The two stayed lingering, hanging on the door frame smiling at one another softly. This felt good. It felt right, comfortable even in a way that it never quite had for them. As if this was the moment they had been waiting for, not just this night but since they had first met, or perhaps even longer than that. And it was only natural that they found themselves drawing closer until his lips reached hers and caressed the with his own, feeling her gentle answer in return. It was a soft moment but its impact was life shattering.

"Oh wow!" Molly smiled. "That's was pretty..."

"Nice? Good?" He asked shyly. Affection was usually something he performed as an act, with Molly though he had tried his hardest to be good for her.

"I was going to say fantastic." She playfully shoved at his arm. "You know, somehow I always pictured you kissing me for the first time as some impulsive reaction. I don't think I ever thought of it be at all slow or tender."

"Is that good or bad then that it happened like that?"

"Oh good. Good doesn't even cover it. It was splendid. In fact I'd quite like to do it again." Sliding her hand softly over his chest hairs she managed to coquettishly look up at him from blow her lashes.

"I agree." This time Sherlock brought his hands to her face and pulled her closer giving a more heated kiss until she clung to him. As he pulled her in he shoved the jacket and bag down to the floor freeing her other hand to slide over his back, scratching lightly and leaving his skin tingling in her fingers wake. It was an entirely different but equally pleasurable experience as her fingers in his hair had felt.

When his lips went to discover the feel of her skin Molly found the ability to speak, "I also never imagined you being shirtless either. Well at least not during a first kisses. I mean I have imagined you with your shirt off- but that came a bit later into it." Oh she was rambling and it was bad.

"Molly?"

"Yeah?" Her answer was half breathed and half moaned.

"Stop talking." Teeth were being used on her shoulder blades and Molly simply nodded before turning to capture his lips again.


	4. Chapter 4

It was some time later before they spoke again. They had moved up to the sofa and Molly was laying with her head on his still bear chest as she slept. Sherlock lazily ran his fingers through her hair smiling to himself after a very well spent evening if he did say so himself. Molly he was sure would agree too. When she woke up. But that would be later. For now rest was needed. Because when they awoke Sherlock wanted Molly to help him make a glitter bomb for Mycroft. She shifted against in and sighed his name. He bent and gently kisses her forehead. On second thought the glitter bomb could wait.

Perhaps they'd make terrific wedding invitations, he mused as he closed his eyes to sleep at last

 ** _and thus ends this story! Thank you for the reviews follows and favorites. They make my day so much._**


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